Hamrammr
by Zagzagael
Summary: OoTP spoiler alert!!! Severus and Hermione? I don't think so. Snape's lover introduces Lupin to a woman who will change his life.
1. Default Chapter

"Why don't you just let slip that you're in a serious relationship and have been, for what, twenty years now, Severus?" Lupin was advising his difficult friend. 

It was late on a Sunday evening and they were seated comfortably at The Three Broomsticks, their table covered with drained tumblers. Both men were slightly drunk which explained their relaxed postures. Snape had one booted foot up on an empty chair, knee bent against the edge of the table, across the table from him the back of another empty chair supported most of Lupin's weight on a cocked elbow, his forearm pressed against the side of his face.

The famous black eyebrow slowly crept up underneath the shock of thick black hair that had fallen over its owner's face. "Ah, yes, brilliant suggestion that," Snape drawled. With the back of his hand he pushed the hair out of his face revealing the trademark sneer and then came the mesmerizing voice "Today we will be attempting to brew the illegal 'never-ending hunger potion' a known Ugrian starvation curse. Of course there are less lethal forms of this, students, like the one my own Hungarian lover hexes me with every time we go to bed. The woman makes me ravenous for every inch of her body." Snape gestured with an elegant hand, waving it at the imaginary class, "Miss Granger, what might be the base for this brew? Correct. As usual. 5 points for Gryffindor."

Lupin snorted into the glass of whiskey raised to his lips. "I suppose not, then."

"Most assuredly," Snape sipped at his own drink "not." He dropped his foot to the ground, sitting up and leaning over the cluttered table towards Lupin, "I should not have to disclose any details of my personal life to students, Remus. My privacy and my position should garner more respect. That is what is making me so damned," he paused, "frustrated about this. Her interest is inappropriate at best and downright ridiculous at worst. She already knows far more about me than I would have allowed…" he trailed off.

"And you're certain about her," Lupin paused "interest in you?"

Snape glared at him. "Yes, as wildly implausible a possibility as it appears to you, Lupin, the girl is clearly crushing."

"Mmm" he nodded. "I suppose it's not that surprising, Severus. I can see how she would project on to you. You're brilliant, she's brilliant. You're a misfit and she's, well, a misfit of a sort." Snape glared. "You know what I mean," Lupin said firmly and Snape looked away in a silent acknowledgment.

The man in black held up two long fingers at Rosmerta, the barkeep. Lupin swirled the last of the liquid in his glass and then downed it. Rosmerta appeared at their table with two more tumblers of whiskey and a tray for the empty glasses. 

"Alright you two then." Rosmerta smiled down at both of them, "Last call, right?" Snape threw three galleons on the tray and just nodded at her to keep the change. 

Lupin watched the woman thread her way back to the bar through now empty tables. He turned back to Snape who seemed to be studying his drink. "You know, Hermione is going to be an incredible witch," the wolf said quietly and Snape's mouth fell open a bit. "Well, she is, Severus. She's going to be gorgeous and brilliant and she's got a heart of gold, not to mention buckets of courage. You know as well as I that she will most probably be instrumental in the downfall of…"

"Enough!" Snape admonished him loudly. "She could be bloody well channeling Nimue herself! Those are all things I just do not consider. Ever. I do not deem students future friends, peers, equals, compatriots. Or lovers! They are children. They come to me when they are eleven years old and by Hades I take them through seven years of education. At the end of which I gladly throw open the doors to the wide world and wave them off. Future harbingers of peace notwithstanding. I harbor no sentimentality. As surprising as it may seem to them, and to you, Remus, I never think of any of them again."

"You stuff them full of worms and beetles, then give 'em a good hard shove out of the nest." Lupin grinned.

"Just as naturally as that." 

"Tell me, Severus, have you encountered this before?" Lupin asked cautiously.

"Yes, Remus, I have. I think, perhaps, it is the bane of many male instructors. But the others were more, let us say, easily dissuaded." Lupin was staring at him. Snape had the good graces to press his lips together in a charming display of humbleness before continuing. "It certainly is not a yearly thing. Maybe three, four female students, well, and one young man, in the past fifteen years."

Lupin was nodding. "I guess I got off easy two years back, eh? Must not be as, irresistible, as you, mate." He was referring to the year he taught Defense against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. "And I even had Granger in class."

Both men laughed at this. And settled into companionable silence. Since Sirius Black's terrible murder the year before, Lupin had somehow found himself more and more in the company of the Hogwarts' Potion Master. Although neither would admit to actively seeking one another out over the past months, they had, and the original fragility of their relationship was slowly but steadily strengthening into true friendship. As broken as his heart had been by Black's death Lupin knew that there had been something in it that had freed him. He no longer had to wear the past like a favorite but out grown and worn-out shirt. 

But the cost of this freedom…

…all the Marauders gone, Lupin swallowed the thought. Why had he been the one left behind.

Snape was watching his friend closely and saw the clear signs of the emotional struggle on the other man's face. He raised his glass "To the Fates, Remus."

Remus looked into Snape's inscrutably dark eyes, "Yes, to the Fates then" he clinked the other man's glass then suddenly smiled broadly and winked at Snape "And to women instead of girls."

"I'll drink to that," the corners of Snape's mouth twitched upward.

"I've noticed that you'll drink to just about anything, Severus." They laughed.

"Alright, then, what are we going to do about your, er, problem," Lupin switched back to his role of advisor.

"I think you may be onto the only solution which I believe will help Miss Granger see the impossibility of her feelings without forcing me into the most unpleasant of dialogues." Lupin raised his eyebrows in question, Snape answered, "I have to arrange for Granger to find out about Tziganne."


	2. Two

The following Saturday afternoon found Severus Snape and Remus Lupin sitting in the same chairs they had occupied the previous Sunday evening.

Lupin had been surprised how much encouragement Snape had needed to believe that a manipulated situation could produce the desired results. Snape had vast belief in the malleable properties of physical ingredients, but no true grasp of setting up a tableau of individuals. Lupin had a strong background of seeing people arranged into situations which nearly always produced a predictable outcome. It was he who suggested how to introduce the players to the game board and it was his convictions in unwritten rules Snape was ignorant of, which finally persuaded the other man to acquiesce.

Lupin had owled Harry and told him that on this, the next Hogsmeade weekend, he could be found at The Three Broomsticks if Potter and company were inclined to stop in and say hello. Snape had been left to owl Tziganne and invite her to join him at the pub.

Now the two men had procured the table, ordered the drinks and were waiting. Snape shook his head at Lupin, "This feels very sketchy."

"I can tell you feel that way, Severus. But really there's no need. What's to lose? Either it works or it doesn't. Nothing life or death here."

"It doesn't feel safe to me to have so much of my private life on display."

At this Lupin nodded. 

"So, I've decided to share the stage with you, Remus." 

"Come again?" the wolf felt his breath hitch.

"I asked Tziganne to bring along a friend. To meet you."

"You what???" Remus felt his heart trip hammer inside of his chest. He hadn't planned on meeting a woman today. He couldn't help but look down at his rumpled chinos and almost clean white t-shirt. He ran a quick hand through his choppy, long blonde hair, trying to remember when he'd actually last showered. He was sporting a soul patch which he suddenly felt was a ridiculous affectation. He wondered if he could escape to the loo and charm a quick shampoo and shave.

"Ah, gods, Potter is here first," Snape hissed this and Lupin looked over at the entrance. Harry and Hermione stood just inside the door, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the dark interior of the pub.

"It's fine, Severus, it's fine." Lupin frowned at Snape and waved back as they spotted him. The two young people began winding their way through the crowded tables towards the men. Lupin turned back to Snape "What isn't fine is you playing matchmaker without asking me first." Snape scowled at him.

"Hello Remus," Harry and Hermione said in unison. Hermione shot a shy glance over at Snape, who had risen politely upon their approach and was now resettling himself in his chair. 

"Hello Professor Snape," she murmured and Lupin watched in astonishment as her face softened and her eyes sparkled at the sight of the man. Snape nodded at her and then at Harry who answered with his own nod.

"Sit down, then, both of you," Lupin pulled out a chair for Hermione. She thanked him but kept her eyes on Snape, who was now intently staring at the backs of his hands as he flexed his fingers. Harry immediately launched into a report of last week's Quidditch match and Lupin tried to juggle his attention between Harry's story and observing Hermione's obvious focus on Snape.

If Lupin didn't know the seriousness of Snape's feelings about Hermione's interest, he would have been deeply amused. There was no question that Snape's intuition was correct. The young woman's gaze was fixed on the man's bent head, her face flushed, two spots of color high on her cheeks. She kept winding a thick lock of her brown hair around her finger. In a sudden flash of guilt, Lupin ached for what Hermione was about to experience. But there really was no choice, he knew, and the road to maturity could be filled with far worse lessons.

Harry was huddling closer and closer to the wolf, even scraping the chair legs on the flag stoned floor as he rearranged himself. Lupin realized that the young man desperately needed his full attention. He placed his hand on Potter's shoulder and looked into his face, "And then you caught the snitch?" Harry relaxed visibly, smiled, shook his head and continued with a less frantic report.

Two butterbeers were set down on the table and Harry absently corralled his. Hermione reached out for hers and brought it to her lips, still watching Snape. She pulled at the thick drink and closing her eyes swallowed several times, leaving the mug half full.

"Do you often come here, Professor?" Hermione asked quietly. The silence between the two stretched out awkwardly and Lupin wanted to kick the man under the table. Finally Snape lifted his head and settled a sharp look on the girl beside him.

"The term 'often' is rather a bit broad, Miss Granger. I do patronize this establishment. And have been doing so since before you were born."

She blushed all the way to her ears. Lupin winced but kept listening to Harry's play-by-play description of the match. Snape began to slowly drum the fingers of one hand upon the table top; Lupin knew he was getting restless.

Hermione pressed on, "You came here for Hogsmeade weekends when you were in school?"

Snape's lips were a thinly drawn line across his angular face. He caught Lupin's eye and the other man shot him a look of helplessness. Snape fixed another hard look on the girl, "Indeed, Miss Granger, as students we spent probably more hours here in a month's time than you and your classmates will do in a year. I believe that Hogwarts boasted a rather raucous crowd then." 

Lupin laughed and Harry quietly turned his attention to Snape and Hermione. Lupin joined in, "Perhaps everyone looks back on their misspent youth with an exaggerated eye, but those were wild, wild times."

"Indeed," Snape admitted.

"I suppose you wouldn't tell us a few choice stories from those years?" Hermione asked this boldly, looking between the two men.

"Supposition correct," Snape snapped.

"Well," Lupin began, ignoring Snape's heated look, encouraged by the way Hermione and Harry leaned into the table, "there was this one time Rosmerta was laid up with the rather nasty effects of a Chinese box hex, Padfoot and Prongs convinced her she'd go broke if she didn't let them open the pub for her that weekend…" 

A loud hooting and hollering rose from the back room of the pub. Male voices could be clearly heard welcoming someone who had just apparated. Clapping soon followed and as the sound died down a bit, Snape turned to Lupin, "I do believe our dates have arrived."

Harry caught Hermione's shocked look. He mouthed the word "Dates?" to her and she could only look positively stricken and barely manage a small shrug.


	3. Three

Author notes:

'pinkchubbymonkey" – thanks for your kind words! Hope you like this chapter. ;)

'corazon' – thanks for the review – it means more than you can know! My Snape is getting quite a bit out of character in this chapter, so I hope you still dig it. J I'm beginning to think that this story is really supposed to be about Lupin…

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Snape stood gracefully and turned towards the back of the pub, Lupin slowly brought himself to his feet. Hermione and Harry twisted in their seats to look. 

Two women strode purposely out of the back room, smiling at one another. A man's voice shouted from the shadows, "Tziganne, will ye dance for us, then?" The taller, darker of the two women shouted back to him over her shoulder. "I'll have to ask Severus first, McBride." A loud round of good-natured guffaws followed. The woman turned back to the front of the pub and quickly spied Snape. A slow smile pulled itself across the strong features of her face, taking her companion's arm, she indicated the two men. 

As she moved through the crowded pub, eyes were naturally drawn to her. She carried herself with a regal air that went unmatched by anyone else present with the exception of her long-time lover who now stood watching her approach. She was tall, with a sleek wave of black hair falling down past her waist. Her skin was a clear, light olive, her figure seeming to be perfectly proportioned beneath the open robes of a scholar. Her robes were a dark, mossy green color reflected by the same tint in her eyes. She held out her hands to Snape, he took them and brought them up to his mouth, kissing one, then the other. With a deft movement he brought her hands down around his waist, pulling her into his body and kissed her fully on the mouth.

Harry's eyes were nearly bulging out of their sockets and Hermione's face had gone from a sickly white to an unflattering red. But Lupin's role, responsibilities and interest in the drama had flown through one of the open, smudged windows of the building; he could only stare unabashedly at Tziganne's female companion.

The other woman stood answering his gaze, her dark blue eyes fastened upon his golden brown ones, a kind smile tugging at her lips. Her dark blonde hair was caught up in two thick braids that crisscrossed over the top of her head, revealing her small, perfectly formed ears, a dozen gold loops running along the edges of each. Her robes were a dusky blue with an overlay of a swirling Nordic pattern embroidered in heavy gold thread. They hung open revealing a lithe build. She could be younger than him, but not by much he surmised. He stood enthralled.

Snape and Tziganne separated and he gave a quick glance over to Lupin who appeared to be completely overcome by something, he followed the man's gaze to the other woman. The two were eye-locked. 

Tziganne had already noticed and she was stepping around Snape towards Lupin, "Remus," she said softly and the wolf wrenched his gaze away and turned to her, "it's been too long." She held out a slim hand and he took it. She leaned into him and kissed him softly on the cheek, whispering into his ear, "I am sorry about Sirius."

He nodded at this, "Me too." He looked at her, "You look great, Tziganne. Just didn't feel like getting old and ugly like the rest of us, eh?" he grinned and was rewarded with her brilliant smile.

"Speak for yourself, Lupin," Snape growled playfully.

Tziganne motioned the other woman to join her and Lupin. "This, Remus, is friend of mine. Bera Eriksson, Remus Lupin. Remus and Severus and I went to school together here, many, many years ago. Bera teaches at Durmstrang with me."

Bera inclined her head and Lupin mumbled something incoherent. Snape pulled out a chair for his lady and Lupin quickly did the same for Bera. Both women sat. Snape motioned to a barkeep across the crowded pub and then resumed his seat.

"Who are your young associates, Severus?" Tziganne asked him, taking in the sight of the flustered Hermione and the flummoxed Harry.

He lowered his brows menacingly, Snape had clearly forgotten about them. He cleared his throat, "Of course. Miss Hermione Granger and Mr. Harry Potter, I introduce Madame Varga, potions-mistress at Durmstrang. And Mistress Eriksson, professor of Literature, Durmstrang. These are two of our more, illustrious, Hogwarts sixth years."

"The honuor is mine," Tziganne said, "Your names are not unknown to me."

Harry was dumbstruck, but not Hermione, "Did I hear you correctly? You attended Hogwarts?"

Snape glowered. Tziganne smiled, "Yes, I did actually. But only for my seventh year. It was Headmaster Dumbledore's idea, a student exchange program."

"Which house?" Snape rolled his eyes at the question, but Hermione was intent on only Tziganne.

The woman cocked her head, taking in the earnestness of the young girl, her intelligent eyes, and the flustered look that was currently being brought under control. "Ravenclaw. But I don't put much stock in," she looked apologetically at Snape, "houses."

Lupin laughed. "Didn't spend much time actually in the Ravenclaw 'house,' though. That might have something to do with it." 

Tziganne threw her head back and laughed, a clear sound that brought smiles to the faces of nearly everyone at their table. "Yes. I suppose that might have a bit to do with it, Remus." She leaned over and nuzzled her face into Snape's neck, a guarded look washed over his eyes, but his mouth still held a smile.

"You met Professor Snape in school?" Hermione choked this out.

The older woman nodded, closely watching the girl now. "And never looked back, I might add."

The answer didn't seem to suit the girl, who couldn't keep a disappointed look from crossing her face.

"Ooh, Tziganne, it is you" a womanly squeal caused them all to turn as Rosmerta bustled her way towards their table. Tziganne rose and allowed herself to be folded into the woman's open arms. 

"I rather thought you'd forgotten us all, dear. Oh you keep yourself scarce, you do." Rosmerta stepped back and let her eyes wander over the other's form. "Let's have a look at you then."

Tziganne lifted her arms elegantly over her head and twirled in place. Rosmerta huffed, but was clearly pleased. "Now, you know I no longer stock that, that bull's blood."

Again, the melodic laughter, "I think I may have moved on to other indulgences, Rosmerta. But I'm flattered you remember."

"How could I not, dear? With the amount you lot went through," at this the barkeep looked over at the table, "Still keeping the same  company, I see." But she was smiling. "Now that one, he's become one of my best customers." She inclined her head at Snape who bowed his head in return. "But he's teaching this one some bad habits." She reached out and tousled Lupin's hair.

The good-natured commotion at their table had brought the usual chatter of the pub to a lulled quiet as the occupants of most of the other tables strained to eavesdrop. Suddenly the back room erupted into roars again and several rather drunk wizards stumbled out into the main room. They were dressed in kilts, with long beards of differing shades hues of red, heads shaved to stubble. "There she is! There she is!" one shouted. "Tziganne Varga, will ye dance then?" he called this across the room.

Hermione shot a horrified look at Tziganne and then at Snape, but their faces only reflected a content amusement. Tziganne looked at Snape and he raised a lazy eyebrow. "Have I ever been able to discourage you from it?" She smiled, leaned in for a quick kiss on the mouth and then stood.

"No you don't!" Rosmerta shouted over the wild applause coming from the back room now, "It's a student's weekend! We can't be having that behavior in here, Dumbledore will have my head!"

"All Hogwarts children – out!" commanded another one of the Scottish wizards.

"Those are paying customers, Crawford!" Rosmerta scolded at the top of her lungs as several tables full of young patrons stood, scraping their chairs back, clearly intimidated.

She waved her arms in clear defeat, "Dance then, dance!" and she fell heavily into the chair that Tziganne had just vacated.


	4. Four

Snape stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles, and leaning against the back of the chair, crossed his arms. His gaze slid over to Hermione's face, she was staring down into her lap and for the first time in the few years he had known her she looked completely lost. Not lost in thought, not lost and afraid, not lost without composure, but just lost. And she looked very young.

Tziganne had disappeared somewhere in the darkening pub. Lupin and Bera were exchanging awkward pleasantries and Harry's eyes were hard to read behind his glasses. He was finishing off his butterbeer. Snape reached for his tumbler of whiskey and threw it back effortlessly. 

Without warning a haunting violin began a slow and melancholy wail, silence fell almost immediately, most patrons craned their necks in search of the player, but in vain. The slow treble tremors began to climb and climb, then a high note held for four measures and with an unbelievable shout, Tziganne leapt from somewhere out of the shadows and into the open floor space near the bar. She began to spin and spin and spin, the violin bow sawing madly now, urging her on.

The Scottish wizards shouted their approval as the woman held her long arms over her head and her green robes tranformed, whipping around her body. The music stilled abruptly and with another shout she stopped herself, one foot tapping firmly down on the floor, her arms spread gracefully. A roar went up from the Scotsmen as her stillness revealed the flamboyant costume of a gypsy folk dancer. Her body was well suited to the attire, a short black halter-style top, heavily embroidered with a rich hue of colors. Her well-muscled abdomen and then loose-fitting black pantaloons, hanging low on her hips, prominent hip bones displayed over the embroidered waistband. She was barefooted, her ankles and wrists adorned with silver bangles, her hair caught up at the crown of her head, wrapped in heavy silver cording, cascading down out of its confinement, falling between her shoulder blades.

Slowly, sinuously, she began to move in the very still silence; keeping time to a rhythm which seemed to come from the beating of every heart, from the breathing of each set of lungs. Patrons sat up a little straighter, eyes opened wider, tongues wetted lips.

And then the sound of the violin returned, slowly building in volume, accompanying her movements, another joined it and the two sounds merged with the dancer between them, braiding into an ancient expression of music and movement. Tziganne wove herself in and out of tables, hips swishing, torso bending and swaying, her arms and legs beckoning and embracing. She danced to every corner of the pub and the violins cried out their tune.

There was only the dance.

The kilted wizards, who had wanted the dance, having seen it before, stood shoulder to shoulder in the space which divided the pub from the back room. McBride closed his eyes and found himself on a windswept hill, looking down into the human carnage in the vale below, his mates beside him still. A broadsword hanging heavy from his hand, dripping gore into the grass. He breathed deeply of the wild moorland wind carrying its unmistakable smell of blood and victory; he felt the warmth of his body, his heated blood singing in his veins, still alive. The ache in his muscles, deep breaths, his skin tingling. And he let his heart pull him towards home.

There was only the dance.

A broken hag of a witch, slumped on a stool at the bar, closed her eyes and found herself a mere scrap of a girl again. She was in a meadow, the small shack of her home off on the edge of the forest; she was spinning, arms out wide, embracing the morning. She stopped and bent low to pick a dandelion gone to seed, its fairy head bigger than an apple. Her eyes grew wide at all the wishes waiting…for her…she pursed her lips and blew hard.

There was only the dance.

A seventh-year Hufflepuff holding the hand of his Ravenclaw girlfriend, closed his eyes and found himself naked in the hallway of his home. His wife asleep, his children asleep, danger approaching from the shadows outside. Death Eaters descending into his life, he would not allow them to rend his world. Wand in hand he strode to the door and threw it open to the night.

There was only the dance.

Snape closed his eyes and found himself stretched in front of a hearth fire, a snowstorm raging outside the leaded windows, in a cabin at the top of the world. He lay on a bearskin rug, Tziganne beside him. Her eyes were shut in slumber and he bent over her, sliding an arm under her shoulders, catching her up against his chest. He brought his lips down to her mouth kissing her awake, her eyes fluttering open full of love for him. For him. All was safety, and he moved himself above her and entered her, dissolving into peace.

There was only the dance.

Harry closed his eyes and found himself an infant, held in his mother's arms. He turned to her moist warmth and suckled deeply, falling into contentment.

There was only the dance.

Hermione closed her eyes and found herself Goddess. Standing below the towering tree of life, its branches swaying in a sweet-smelling breeze, each leaf inscribed with knowledge acquired from the beginnings of mankind. She would climb the tree and read each word, her body strong, her limbs long, her hair a plait falling down her back. She would know all things.

There was only the dance.

Lupin closed his eyes and Bera closed her eyes they found themselves together on a path winding into the darkening woods. They were holding hands and between them strength was simmering, both could feel it, they would not let go their grip on one another, would not let go, would not let go.

Tziganne danced and danced and danced. Sweat transforming her body into a glowing form of movement. She moved one last time the perimeter of the room and coming to the open space again, the strings of the violins bent in horsehair voices, a melodic yearning, the music slowed and the dancer slowed. Gracefully she bowed her body, hands reaching for the floor, around her ankles, she folded herself into a prayerful posture and the music ceased.


	5. Five

Author's Notes:

Thank you all for reading along and for your encouraging words in your reviews. I anticipate updating weekly. 

Reviews and comments are always welcome.

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The rare stillness of shared human experience became a long silence inside The Three Broomsticks. Each living creature felt connected to something other than itself, skin no longer seemed to separate individuals, all were part of a larger body. They were a primitive group, a family held within the Earth's embrace, deep within a cave. And then the moment faded into a memory. 

Wild clapping ensued. Tziganne stood, her green robes back in place, but her brow still gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat and her hair falling lankly over her shoulders. She brought her palms together, lowered her lips to her fingers and thanked the crowd. She moved through the tables back to Snape. He was standing, shaking his head in a bemused way, but his eyes sparkled with pride and desire. She winked at him, leaned up for a quick kiss and lowered herself back into the chair that Rosmerta was now standing behind. 

"Oh, Tziganne, you're something, you are." Rosmerta said this quietly but with a tone that suggested it was a hard-earned compliment, her hand on the woman's shoulder. "You haven't changed a bit." Tziganne reached up and squeezed the older woman's hand.

Lupin leaned across Bera and fixed a heavy stare on Tziganne. "You've mastered the form."

She inclined her head and then nodded. "So, I hear. But I have been dancing all my life, before I could even walk, I'm told." She smiled at the werewolf, "Like all things, one gains a certain craftsmanship, from years of living. Even magic grows and improves."

"It's a charmed dance?" Hermione asked this accusingly, looking from one adult face to another, until her gaze settled on Tziganne. 

Tziganne's eyes were intent on the girl's face, "I cast an age-old charm on the room, to entice a feeling of clan. If we were outside, gathered around a fire, late into the night, it would not be necessary. The music, of course, is magical. The dance is not, in the way you are thinking, charmed." 

Hermione looked confounded and a bit suspicious. "But you caused images to appear in our minds?" 

 Tziganne asked in quiet disbelief, "You believe I magicked some thoughts into your head?"

The girl colored deeply, Potter moved uncomfortably in his chair, Lupin and Eriksson shifted away from each other. 

Snape observed this coolly, and then leaned into the table, "Miss Granger, it would appear that you have experienced," he paused, "some thing during Tziganne's dancing that you believe to have been caused by the dance and the dancer. In a way, you are correct. The dance may have encouraged a part of your mind to respond in kind, with images or emotions, a memory perhaps. However, your experience is unique to you and not, as I think you may fear, shared by others in the room or amongst this group."

"I, I, well," the girl was stammered, "I will take your word on it." She shook her head, "I've never seen a dance like that before. I mean, not in person."

"If not in person, then how? In books?" Bera asked this gently.

"I meant on the telly." Hermione answered quietly. 

"Ah," Bera nodded, "Of course. I didn't realize you were muggle-born. That's a rather sterile way to experience things, I'm told."

"I suppose it is. Yes."

Harry nodded.

"Thank you. It was very beautiful," Hermione whispered to Tziganne and the other woman gave her an inquiring look. "The dance." The girl stood abruptly. "I think we need to get going now. Harry, don't you agree?" The boy nodded and pushed back from the table, reaching down for their packages on the floor. Snape and Lupin stood. Harry grasped Lupin's hand and shook it warmly. Lupin reached around the boy with his other hand and rubbed Hermione's arm. She nodded at this, but looked over at Snape. 

He held her gaze, "Miss Granger." Her lips parted slightly, she stared at him, her gaze not wavering. After a long moment, he cocked one eyebrow and she closed her eyes. He turned his head, nodded quickly at Potter and resumed his seat.

Harry and Hermione turned as one and walked away.

Bera was watching Tziganne who was watching Hermione disappear through the crowded pub and then out the door into the late afternoon. She looked briefly at Snape who was exchanging a cryptic glance with Lupin. Tziganne then turned to Bera who raised her eyebrows and gave a small shake of her head.

"I believe that our work here is done," Tziganne said playfully to no one in particular. Snape grimaced and glanced down at the woman next to him.

"Tziganne," he admonished in dulcet tones. Lupin blushed.

"Something has gotten past me," Bera said. "We'd come to accomplish something? Tziganne?"

The dark woman leaned over and gave the blonde a kiss on her cheek. "Oh dear Bera. Nothing as serious as all that. And I did want you to meet Remus. I think you both have much in common." Bera had smiled at the kiss, but still looked hard at her friend.

Snape cleared his throat, "I'm afraid that I took the advice of a" he looked at Lupin, "well meaning friend, and I see now that perhaps I was concerned for naught."

"I wonder how each of you would feel if I began to converse in Norse, because that's about how well I'm following any of this." Bera's voice was silky and clear, humoured but firm, "I apparated for a little over an hour, across the Channel no less, and if there was a reason other than the one I was told, I would like to know it."

Lupin spoke, "I'm very glad you're here, Bera. And I'm glad you apparated all that way." Bera smiled at him. He continued, "I had suggested to Severus that perhaps an, ah, inappropriate interest in his person could be, um, cut out at the root if the existence of a long-term partner was discovered."

Bera furrowed her brow, looked from his face to the others and then laughed. "I think I understand." She reached for her drink and sipped it slowly, her eyes unfocused. "Poor Miss Granger."

Snape let out a short, barking laugh. Bera looked over at him slowly. "I had a girlhood crush on an older man. I cried for months when I found that my feelings would never be returned. But I did learn quite a bit from the miserable experience."  She paused, keeping her light eyes locked to Snape's dark ones, "I fear I had a similar comedown to the one Miss Granger has just had."

Snape raised an eyebrow in question and she continued, "Oh, I loved him passionately. He wasn't an instructor, he was a family friend. He was much older than I, let me think," she ran a slender fingertip around the rim of her glass, bringing a wet drop up to her lips, "I was sixteen and he must have been in his thirties. So, twice my age. He was different from all the boys I knew. He was smarter than anyone, worldly, he had just returned from North America when I decided I must simply have him for my own. I rather think the world had shrunk to just he and I. Everything in my world spun on the axis that I had made of him. You can well imagine how devastated I was when he brought his lover to dinner one evening in our home." 

She paused and finished her drink. "Oh, yes. I hadn't known you see. Or perhaps I had known and just convinced myself that I was his true soul mate and that surely he would come to see me as the same." She blushed. "I remember feeling…I was completely stunned." All three of her tablemates were staring at her now and she looked from one face to another. She continued, "I don't think I had really thought of 'women' before that moment. I mean, thought of women as being creatures other than those like my own mother, my grandmothers and aunts. This woman, I remember her name, Katarine Galler, was in her thirties also, I assume. A mature woman, you see, who was not a mother but was something I no experience of. She was very attractive and quite intelligent and in no way aware that I was in love with her paramour. She worked for the Ministry, I think, something glamorous and mysterious. She was not like any of the women in our small village. I lived on a dairy farm with my parents and five siblings. I was very naïve. I think now, working with young people, that I was a very young sixteen year old girl.  But I read and read and read so many books and I thought I knew so very much, thought I felt at life so much deeper than others did." She shrugged. "It was good for me to meet her. To have my heart broken in that fashion. I broke it myself, didn't I?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at this and tilted his head to the side. "Perhaps."

Lupin cleared his throat and Bera turned towards him. His face seemed to reflect her injury back at her. She shrugged and smiled at him apologetically. He answered her with a thin rising of one corner of his mouth, but he had a sad look in his eyes. 

"Oh, Bera," Tziganne whispered this and the horror in her voice reached across the table. "I'm sorry. I was insensitive."

Bera laughed and the sound was sincere, "By Skuld's Sisters, I didn't mean to be so maudlin. Please forgive me. It was a long time ago."

Still Tziganne stared at her, "Yet it still can bring you pain."

"It doesn't really. Not like that. I guess I feel badly for the girl," she shrugged. "I can identify."

"I cannot but I should be able to imagine it." 

"Could we, perhaps, not continue this conversation on empty stomachs?" Snape pushed his empty glass away and downed the remainder of Tziganne's drink.

"Should we go someplace, Severus? Can we all go to dinner? Or perhaps make dinner? Where are you living, Remus?" Tziganne asked.

"I'm at the Black home, it's not a very welcoming place, but we could go there. I would love to cook for all of you," Lupin offered, looking at Bera.

Snape sighed. "Yes, there really is not much else to choose from for the evening's entertainment. I apologize if my plans were not quite complete regarding the weekend."

"No apology necessary, dearheart. Let's take Remus up on his offer and we will have an evening of good food and good friends." Tziganne stood. "We'll stop and pick up groceries and wine, yes?"

The group was all standing now, Lupin pulling Bera's chair out for her. Snape dropped two galleons on the table. They began to make their way towards the back of the pub.

As they passed the group of Scottish wizards rolling dice, one stood and blocked their way. He put his hand on Tziganne's arm. "You're a powerful witch, indeed, Tziganne." She inclined her head at his words. Severus put a hand on her other arm, "Ay, Snape, you're a lucky bastard, then. I can't help but wonder what kind of bait ye used to catch a fish like this one." 

"I believe when discourse has sunk to this level, McBride, the only possible response to that would be, it's not the bait but the size of your lure."

A muffled squeak from Bera behind him and a low chuckle from Remus as Tziganne tucked her hand under Snape's arm and the four of them walked to the back of the room. They apparated to the sound of the Scotsmen's laughter.


	6. Six

"Remus, you can really cook," Tziganne sounded surprised but very pleased.

Lupin smiled. The four of them were seated mid-way down the long, battered scullery table. Since Black's death, Lupin had confined himself to the kitchen and his room. He had not seen the dining room since the year before and he quickly pushed the thought of it out of his mind. Black had been in there that day, furious that the Order seemed oblivious to the danger Harry was in, Lupin could close his eyes and hear the heated words, feel the emotions running so close to the surface. He had returned to the house the day after Sirius's murder and had never entered that room again.

Snape and Tziganne were seated on one side with Lupin and Bera across from them. The tabletop was covered with dishes and serving platters, wine bottles and goblets. A vase of autumn-hued mums had been pushed towards one end and candles flickered down the length of the middle.

"It really was very good, Remus. Every dish perfect." Bera said quietly, grinning at him. "I feel wickedly sated."

Remus smiled back at her.

"If one is forced to satisfy one's hunger with the gastronomy of a rabbit, then I agree, Lupin, a better meal could not be imagined." Snape waved at the empty dishes on the table and pulled deeply at the dark wine in his glass.

"They say red meat will be the death of us, Severus," the werewolf stated with authority.

Snape merely snorted at this, "I heartily devour the flesh of animals. It feeds my brain." Bera grimaced, Lupin shook his head and Snape grinned ferally. "Name one intelligent herbivore and I may be swayed."

"I refuse to argue the merits of a vegetarian meal with you, Snape. Either accept the premise or continue along the path to clogged arteries and colon cancer."

"Egads, man. You are serious about this ruminant culinary habit. Never threaten a man with digestive track disease. Coronary failure, perhaps. That is precisely why I gave up smoking so many years ago. And that was an indulgence of which I was extremely fond." Snape leaned over the table for emphasis. "I adored smoking. But I will not suffer similar mortal fear mongering of nutriment. Food is meat; all else relegated to a side dish."

Lupin shrugged.

Tziganne elbowed Snape in the ribs. He looked at her sharply, she widened her eyes at him and he looked away. "I apologize, Remus," he mumbled.

The werewolf nodded. 

"Good wine," Tziganne said cheerfully. 

Bera was looking hard at Lupin. She nodded and raised her glass. "It is. To grapes and good friends."

The four of them clinked their goblets together.

"I am really curious," Bera began, "why you two have been together so long and haven't settled down and begun a family."

"Snape a father? I see him as Saturn, swallowing his babes whole, you know?" Lupin laughed.

"That is an amusing image, Lupin." Snape didn't sound amused.

"Oh, I think he would be a good father," Tziganne said quickly, "I don't think I would be a proper mother, though."

"Neither one of us is particularly motivated or interested, to state it clearly," Snape said. He looked at Bera intensely and she held his gaze, "Not all of us have pastoral childhood memories encouraging us towards similar creations in our adult lives. Some of us possess histories so dreadful that to even consider the idea of recreating or rewriting familial times is beyond one's endurance." He paused, "The better interviewee, Bera, would appear to be you. Why are you not settled into a tranquil domesticity? Dairy cows lowing in a Danish dawn, was it?"

She looked at him quietly for a few moments and then smiled, "Severus, you are so interesting to me. All sharp edges on the outside, and yet, there is a softness inside of you. I can clearly see why a particular kind of student would find you a fascinating love interest."

He scowled. Tziganne laughed softly. 

"But your question is a fair one, and perhaps you are right to guess that I really ask it to shed a light on my own answers." Bera continued and Snape raised an approving eyebrow. "I am a helpless romantic. There I said it. I have spent years awaiting the arrival of my Prince, my Eros. To no avail. I think it's a career liability, being a scholar of fairy tales and mythologies." She finished off her wine and reached clumsily for the bottle, refilling her glass nearly to the rim and drank deeply again.

Lupin laughed softly. "Well, you certainly aren't alone. I think most people are more romantic than pragmatic."

"I am a prosaic pillar of pragmatism, Lupin. And that should guarantee me being an unlikely candidate for errant schoolgirl yearnings." Snape admonished under half-closed eyelids. 

Tziganne nodded, the corners of her mouth turned downwards. "I would have to agree with that."

Lupin laughed again, louder this time, "I won't run the risk of betraying him and revealing his romantic underpinnings, then. Have it your way, Severus. Prosaic pillar… " he trailed off good humouredly.

Snape was watching Bera, "You do not attribute your marital status, or lack thereof, to that unrequited love and heartbreak of your youth?"

"No, I am not single today because of the lingering effects of my disastrous girlhood crush, Severus. Feel better?" 

Snape's eyes narrowed. "I did not feel badly."

Bera nodded. "Whatever you say."

"You are coming dangerously close to angering me with your insinuation, though."

"Ooh, danger. I see." She finished her wine. 

"I think you are getting drunk, Bera." 

"Really, do you? You may be right." Bera twirled the empty wine glass between her thumb and fingers. "And I think you are feeling guilty, Severus. About that girl in the pub."

"I certainly am not."

"You are still thinking about it." She looked at him. "About her."

Snape's eyes were slits now, the corner of his lip lifting slightly. "What makes you believe that?"

"Intuition."

"Your intuition is grotesquely inaccurate."

"Is it?"

"Remus, do you have a room here you can spare us?" Tziganne asked. 

Bera and Snape stared at one another across the table.

Remus jumped to his feet. "Absolutely. Let's get one made up. Bera, you'll need a room as well, I'm guessing." He was at the door of the kitchen, Tziganne behind him.

They disappeared into the dark hallway and could be heard climbing the stairs.

"What is it that you want to say to me, Bera? You seem anxious to impart some insight, misguided though it will obviously be. Or is it criticism?"

"Who are you fooling, Severus? Yourself? Tziganne? Surely you're flattered at the girl's interest? Tempted even? Intrigued? Curious?"

"Wrong on all counts."

Bera nodded. 

"What are you on about, Bera?" Snape leaned forward and filled both of their glasses with the last of the wine. His voice was soft.

She seemed to study her drink, "I'm sorry, Severus. I guess something just broke loose in me. I can't stop thinking about that girl. What was her name?"

"Hermione. Shakespeare, no doubt. Hermione Granger." He sipped at his wine and watched her over its rim. "This is about you, your psychology. Kindly leave me out of it."

She nodded. "Hermione. Very pretty." She looked at him and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "You know what? You're right. I know exactly how that girl is feeling. Me, I know. And it's not good." She stared down at the scarred tabletop. "The question is why? Not in this case, you love Tziganne. But in a bigger way, what would be so wrong about that sort of relationship? Why must it be quashed like that? That felt personal, more cutting, than the average let down." 

"The idea of the relationship is inappropriate and therefore the understanding of such should feel less personal. Two adults rejecting one another is personal. A teacher rejecting the advances of an immature interest is not about individuals but about what is morally acceptable and morally reprehensible."

"Don't you think that it's the more natural of situations? A girl on the edge of womanhood and a man arrived at maturity? Are we talking cultural mores here or something else?"

"I think we are talking about you seeking therapy as soon as you return home. Tomorrow afternoon even, if it can be arranged."

"You think you are above all this, don't you? Well, you are not. And this will somehow affect you."

"I highly doubt that. You were affected, no question, half your life ago. Time does not heal all non-fatal wounds, it would appear."

"Gods above, did you think it does?"

"It was a figure of speech, Bera. A pedestrian observation of human commonalities. No, I do not see Time as Healer." He drained his goblet. "Perhaps that would be best discussed with your Jungian, as well."

"I'm drunk."

"Yes."

"What is Remus's story?"

"Ah, is that what this is really about? Another man, another possible rejection?"

"That was bitterly rude."

"And you represent the penultimate of politeness."

"You realize that this is becoming the way we relate to each other? It always is reduced to this." She looked across at him.

"By Charon's passage, do not begin crying."

"It's the wine."

"I know."

"Remus will think I'm a fool."

"What he will think is that you have drunk too much of this wonderful cab. He is a gentleman, above all else."

She nodded and pushed her half-full glass away from her.

Severus stood, "I am going to bed."

Bera nodded. 

He lingered by the door. "I am flattered." 

He was gone.

Lupin returned alone. Bera was still sitting at the table, but her wand was out and he assumed that she had begun the fire which burnt brightly on the grate. He entered slowly.

"I've made you up a bed, Bera," his voice was quiet.

She looked up at him, surprised. She sucked in her lower lip and nodded.

"Do you want to sit by the fire, then? Come here, come away from that mess." Lupin sat on the floor in front of the hearth, his back against a chair there. Bera stood, and leaning over the table, blew out each one of the candles, he watched her from lowered lids. 

She joined him on the floor, folding her legs up elegantly underneath her. Her knee brushed against his and came to rest firmly there. He breathed in deeply and Bera looked up at him shyly. The light from the fireplace caught the bones of his face and dug deep shadows into the hollows of his cheeks, around his ears and down the long length of his neck. 

She drank him in completely, intoxicated with his light brown eyes flecked with gold, the dark blonde hair, the sheer masculine power in his every movement, she recognized his exhaustion and knew that others saw it as something sloppy, unkempt, but her heart ached with her knowledge that it was his inner battles revealed. Her gaze traveled from the sloping biceps down to the gloriously thick forearms, covered with their downy hair, the large hands and fingers capped with clear nails grown straight and a bit long over the tips. But it was his face that her gaze kept returning to, sculpted cleanly, a man's face all broad planes and defined edges. 

He was staring intently at her, a retiring question on his face. She closed her eyes and smiled. Then she leaned in to him, pressing her breasts against his arm and bringing her lips up to his ear, he bent towards her in response and brought a tentative hand up to her shoulder, a caress that pulled her even closer to him, her hand splaying across his thigh. With one light touch, the fingers of her other hand reached under the thick mane of hair falling over his neck and she whispered in his ear, "Remus Lupin, do you honour The Fates?" 

He nodded and her lips brushed the upper curled edge of his ear and a shiver ran right down from the tip of her tongue to the sweet spot between her legs. 

Lupin nearly gasped as his loins warmed at the feel of her lips against his flesh. His hand tightened around the curve of her shoulder, his fingertips brushing her back. 

"Good, because I think they have a hand in this." She brought her voice to an even lower whisper, "I know what you are, Remus. I have dedicated much of my life's work to knowing what one as you can be, should be." She felt his back stiffen and she pulled away from him to bring her hand up to his face, fingers under his chin and gently tilt his face towards her. "Surely, this cannot be a coincidence."

His eyes were filled with fear and a terrible unknowing. Bera moved back, dropping her hands from his body, laying them, fingers entwined in her own lap. She looked into his face, willing herself to hold his gaze, silently pleading with him to return it. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands. She traced the corners of his mouth with her thumbs. Slowly he bent closer to her and his mouth found hers.

Upstairs, Snape and Tziganne made a familiar yet passionate love that carried them both into sleep. Snape laid on his back, spent, Tziganne beside him, on her belly, one arm over his chest, her fingers draped around his bicep. He felt himself falling backwards into a vertigo of dreams.

In the earliest hours of the dawn, the sunlight rubbed against the smeared windows, and deep in Snape's mind he found himself in the library at Hogwarts. He knew exactly where he was going and he strode forward with purpose. There she was, her back to him, at the farthest end of the room, sitting at the study table which faced out towards a window set deep in the wall, overlooking the lake, the green, and another vista far beyond that. Her head was bent to her work. As he approached her, he began to shed his clothing with precision and rapidity. Robes, frock coat, tailored shirt. These fell from his shoulders like water. He reached down to his waist and tugged the hem of the undershirt out from his pants and drew it up and over his head and dropped it from his hand. He unbuttoned the fly of his trousers as he finished closing the space between them. His hands reached down and grasped her shoulders and she sighed with a sound of pure contentment and he smiled. He bent over her and pulled her up and into his arms. She turned slowly and he looked down into her eyes. With both hands he cupped her face and brought his mouth down hard on hers. She pushed the chair out from between them and he felt the length of her body pressed against his. Her hands pushed his trousers down over his sharp hip bones and his erection sprang free. She stood before him naked. He gently began to bend her backwards onto the table and she brought both legs up and wrapped them tightly around him. With one thrust he was buried in her and he lowered her down to the table, his hands on either side of her shoulders. He watched her beautiful face and her eyes were open, looking up at him. "Hermione is a very pretty name, indeed," he whispered to her. And she smiled and closed her eyes, reaching up for him, she pulled him down to her and they were in the long grass by the lake and all was purity. He came deeply inside her.

And woke.


	7. Seven

Snape felt as though a bolt of lightning had torn its way out of a dark cloud inside his brain, down through his lungs and out his cock. He had never felt so completely overcome sexually by a dream in his life. He was actually panting. He tried to hold his breath, not wanting to wake Tziganne still slumbering beside him. He brought a forearm up over his eyes and thought about the images and the feelings in the dream. The sexuality of the encounter was tame in contrast to his usual indulgences, yet it had been overwhelmingly erotic. Her willingness to have him take her like that in that place in that way conveyed a complete trust in his person that singed the very marrow in his bones. But there had been something else at the end and with his eyes open he could not see it.

He nearly moaned aloud. Now that he was awake he was struggling immensely against an aching feeling of loss, if he could just return to that place. Not the sex, not the library, but the wild long grasses she had drawn him down into. They were alone there. In her arms he had felt something he had never felt before, he had felt complete. A completeness he had not desired but without which his lungs were scorched empty.

"Severus, get hold of yourself," he admonished himself internally. "It was a dream. That was not Hermione Granger. That was your anima, your muse, your Green Lady. Maybe it was even your mother!"

He had never dreamt of a sexual encounter with a student once in his entire teaching career. He groaned. The dream would not dissolve.

He turned heavily to Tziganne, she lay deeply asleep with her back towards him and he pushed himself up against her hard, the whole length of his body pressed into the curves of hers. He was erect again. He needed to thrust every moment of the dream out of his brain. 

He looked down at his partner and closed his eyes tightly against the intrusion of the dream woman's face and body. He reached up with one hand and combed his fingers into Tziganne's impossibly black mane. Lowering his face into her hair, he breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of her, always the forest right before a summer rain. He pulled the tangled mass of hair away from the side of her face and looked down at her, she exhaled, rousing to consciousness slowly. He thought of her, the comfort she provided him. They had spent two decades walking a tightrope of love which stretched taut between the sheer cliffs that were their individual lives. They had broken one another's virginities twenty years ago and struggled through dark times and had not really known what to do in the sun-drenched years that followed. But they had wordlessly committed themselves to one another because they could be themselves having seen the worst of what they were. Now this woman lay sleeping beside him while his whole being ached for someone else.

Snape brought his mouth down hard on the side of her neck, pulled her skin between his teeth and sucked. Her head moved in groggy protest under this and he flipped her quickly onto her back and was over her. With a small grimace of guilt, he looked away from her surprised, sleepy face and with a quick, hard knee between her legs he opened her to him and drove himself deeply inside her. Her eyes fluttered wide and with both hands she reached up and brought his face down to hers. He rested his forehead against the bridge of her nose and she bent her head back in an effort to reach his lips, but he kept his mouth away, pounding into her body now. With one arm bent stiffly holding him above her, he snaked the other under the small of her back and his broadly opened hand pulled her hips up high against his own.  Then he rocked back completely onto his knees and both hands gripped the sides of her hips bringing her lower body up with his, her shoulders still on the mattress. He would not look into her eyes, but closed his own and threw his head back and dropped all conscious thought down into his lower belly.

He forced his mind to blackness and brought himself to his climax.

"What was that?" Tiziganne's voice hissed through the early grey morning.

"A morning salutation?" Snape answered, his voice echoing hollowly in the room.

"Well, good morning to you, too" she rolled away from him. Injured. 

"Tziganne," he was contrite and lay back down, draped over her heavily, playful now that he had banished the dream. He looked into her eyes, his face inches from hers.

"No."

"Too late."

"You're not funny this early in the day. And I'm insulted."

He rolled off her, away from her, onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. "You should be."

He felt her stiffen. "What? What did you just say?"

"I said you should be. You should be insulted."

"Why do you say that?" her voice was chilled.

"Because I was insulting. And I regret it."

She rolled back over and leaned up on one elbow to look down into his face. He turned his face completely towards her and looked up into her searching eyes.

"What is it, Severus?" she whispered, her lower lip trembling.

"I cannot say, for certain." Her eyes widened and he reached up and stroked her lower lip with his thumb. "No need for that sort of worry, darling. It is nothing like that. I am brutally tired, I drank far too much yesterday, had to gorge myself on rice," he sneered, "spar with Bera, hope for Remus. And I hate this house. I can quite honestly say that my boundaries have been breached."

She sighed and he wondered at this. She closed her eyes and said, "It is more than that."

His brows furrowed deeply and his eyes grew dark beneath them, "What is more? What is more than that? That is what it is. There is no more."

She began to weep. Silently. Her eyes still shut, but with teardrops leaking out from under her long lashes. For one wild moment, Snape believed that she knew about the dream and that he had been caught in a lie. He sat up quickly, "Tziganne, what is wrong?"

She shook her head and the tears still dripped steadily down her face. He watched as they pooled for a brief second in the arch of her nostril and then spattered down onto the ridge of her lip and from there fell to the bed. She turned roughly onto her stomach and buried her face in a pillow. Snape felt a flame of fear ignite in his belly. 

"Tziganne?"

"I didn't want to talk about this. Not now. Not here." The flame leapt high into his throat and his brain began to burn.

"Tziganne," he barked in his most intimidating voice and she just shook her head.

He stood and found his clothes scattered. He bent to them and began to dress, methodically, quickly.  He walked to the side of the bed where she lay and he sat there and reached for her shoulders. She did not move away from him and he began to rub at the tensed muscles that ran along the sides of neck and down beside her spine. Finally her skin warmed, her muscles went slack under his hands and he stroked her gently. She turned and brought her face onto his wool-covered knee. He stroked at her hair.

With a great tug of the covers, she sat up and wrapped herself in the down and looked at him. "I am leaving Durmstrang. I am returning to Hungary."

His hands clenched into fists in his lap, his voice was like steel, "Why?"

"Because I have to, I cannot stand it any more. I don't want this life any longer. My life is not this life and I have turned my back on who I am for too long. Sold myself to something else and," her voice became trapped inside her throat, "I don't even remember why or what it is, Severus. _Yekka__ buliasa nashti beshes pe done grastende._"

"_With one body you cannot ride two horses_."

"I will be drabarni. I will be the simple woman I really am, wear the clothes of my people, speak their language, birth the living and kiss the dying good-bye."

"This is not about you, this is about Zolton."

She looked at him with a flash of anger on her face, but it faded quickly, "Severus, I knew that would be your first thought and that is why I made my decision without talking to you about it. He has not forced my hand on this. Of course he wants me to come home. With Papa buried, Zolton has changed. He remembers the ties that bind. He is trying to do the right thing by our people. He has made peace with me, he knows I will not marry, he knows that he is the last. But he needs me and I see that clearly now.  I want to escape from the darkness here. I want to go where I am needed, where I am safe, where I know my purpose."

Her words cut into him like a hot knife, slicing down through his core, he bled out all his feelings of worthlessness and panicked as they pooled around him in a dark torrent of accusation. There were no words, there was no protest. He had failed her. He thought of her betrothed, Zolton. He remembered her father's funeral and how this dark prince had frightened him, truly frightened him. One moment leaping across a campfire with a rose clenched between his teeth and in the next breath the rose became a dagger and Snape could feel the man's hot breath in his face. He had not been welcome there, had not expected to be, he went for Tziganne, to help her to shoulder her grief and the weight of being an outcast from her kumpania, but he had left feeling like a thief.

"Severus." Her voice was firm now, resolved. "You and I have argued about these things for years now. Years. This is not my war, not my darkness. I do not understand why it pulled me the way it did. I believe I did have a purpose here, with you, against Voldemort. But no longer. When that boy was murdered, when Voldemort returned, I knew that this was not about me. And I feel like I am building weapons at Durmstrang." He looked at her sharply. "I only ever wanted to be a healer, my love. I possess a dangerous knowledge and I must take it from this place, from these children."

He was shaking his head and she put a finger over his lips to still him. "You have not done wrong by me. I will not ever concede that point. I chose the same things you chose. Something is calling me home and I am going to heed that call." She looked at him closely, "I think that something is calling you and it is not me. You are going to be needed in this war in some dark and terrible way. If I were to stay I would affect that."

"I will not listen to this gypsy prophesizing. Your words are pretty but they are empty. You are leaving. How can I answer to that? I would not keep you, even if I could, which I, obviously, cannot."

She began to cry again. He got up and left the room.

  
:


End file.
